


feel like pure shit just want the marauders back x

by aheartcalledhome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Missing Moments, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheartcalledhome/pseuds/aheartcalledhome
Summary: an album's worth of marauders first war fanfiction based on ginger by brockhampton
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Harry Potter Album Fic Challenge





	1. no halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "do i matter? i'm ecstatic, i'm depressed / more like god's special mess, never had no halo / trippy, i can barely hike it out of bed / time bomb under it, persuading you to hop in / hmm, options, runnin' out of options / hmm, options, used to have options / hmm, options, runnin' out of options / hmm, options, used to have options"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merlyn's verse on no halo has been the mood of the century this first year of grad school and i've been wanting to write to no halo as a whole for a while. maybe this is the start of a bunch of fics to come! :)

All four of them lay on the floor of the front room, eyes fluttering toward the door on regular intervals (Moony, then Padfoot, then Prongs, then Wormtail, just like the names scrawled across the Map). It had been the Map that had caught the Order’s attention. The four of them were supposed to be hard at work on a similar prototype for Dumbledore, but could find no motivation. No energy. Instead, they were lying on an itchy carpeted floor, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answers to their questions. 

It had been easier to throw themselves into the rush of innovation at Hogwarts, surrounded by everything they could possibly need to be great, every book in the world at their fingertips. Now, stumbling over things that had seemed simple, quirks they’d forgotten to document, their confidence was wearing away like the seashore collapsing into the water. It had been easier to invent new magic when it wasn’t required. It had been easier to be exceptional when exceptional wasn’t the bar to meet. 

It had been easier to be exceptional when no one’s life hung in the balance. At Hogwarts, the seventh years who left were always replaced by a fresh crop of wide eyed, eager first years, a new list of names to learn. In the bowels of this war, new names were rare, and old ones (gone ones) littered the memories of the Order like confetti. Everywhere they looked, there was one more person at least they’d known of, someone who’d passed them a snack or a drink at a meeting, or asked if they could babysit their child during a short mission, or run a report to Dumbledore, that was missing.

James reached out for Sirius’ hand and their fingers twined together like vines growing over a trellis, delicate and lovely. Something meant for pictures, art meant for adoration. It would have been beautiful if either of them had looked joyful for it. Something about the physical connection turned their smiles a little sour, as if they’d realized they could hurt each other with the demons in their heads, as if they’d realized that the sharp, aching parts of themselves could be used to slash at each other. 

“Do you ever regret taking that picture?” James asked, the words tearing at his raw throat. His eyes burned. “All I see are ghosts when I look at it now. I can’t look at it.”

“I don’t.” Remus said softly. “It’s better that we remember them.”


	2. sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me / you're the only one i want by my side when i fall asleep / tell me what i'm waitin' for, tell me what i'm waitin' for / i know it's hard but we need each other / know it's hard but we need each other"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like what ryan beatty's collabs with brockhampton sound like. his voice blends in so well to the group, and though bearface is still my favorite of the two vocals wise, ryan brings so much tenderness to every verse he sings. so, in the interest of kindness, i decided to give a ryan beatty chorus to james and lily, who deserved a lot better than they got

In the midst of all the blood and gore and wild, ferocious anger, James and Lily stole time when they could, grabbing at limited resources with hungry hands, stole love, stole whatever peace they could find in each other. 

She sat in his lap now, hands wandering over his skin, mapping out bruises and gashes he hadn’t even noticed, so consumed by seeing her again. If love was a drug, it had ripped the feeling right out of his body in the best way. The pain and the anxiety were held at a distance, the world narrowing to Lily. She was all that mattered. Her hands unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing over the bandages on his chest, the way her lips pursed when her palm came away sticky with blood. 

Was it right to do this here? Where everyone could see them? His hand settled on her hip, a fragile, meaningless attempt at holding her in place, and her fingers traced the line of his jaw, leaving streaks of his blood against brown skin. Was that staking her claim? Or was it a reminder that he’d bled for the cause and still come home to her in one piece?

Was it right to remind each other they were still alive when Dorcas Meadowes’ ex-girlfriend still came to Order meetings and sat quietly in the corner of the room, haunted by people who had been more Dorcas’ friends than her own? Was it moral to love so publicly when Edgar Bones had watched his wife and children die in front of him for daring to want to be a family in the midst of all this? Was it good to put a ring on Lily’s finger when Caradoc’s wife still waited for him to come home because she couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was gone forever?

Lily’s ring caught the lamplight, the gold glowing softly, and James wished their love could see the sun.


	3. boy bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "ring in their ears like a bark / always feel left in the dark / trauma the price for the patience / character shift like an arc / move like my shit stay in park / don't feel the love or respect / grip like a hand on my neck / this is the year, place your bets"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. i love bearface. and his verse on boy bye instantly made me think of remus, especially when combined with the first bit of dom's verse ("everybody ask me how i deal with my depression / man look, man, i don't got the answer to your question / if i did, you would probably never hear from me again / that's a promise, not a threat and it ain't no half-steppin'"). 
> 
> as you'll notice, i have not touched the topic of "who is the spy" yet, but boy, is it coming >:)

Remus hadn’t been surprised when Dumbledore had pulled him aside and asked him to go undercover with Greyback’s pack. He was, after all, the reasonable choice.

Since the idea of bringing the werewolves had come into discussion, Remus had been waiting for his name to be called. The word werewolf set him on edge, turned every eye in the room onto him. Everyone was always watching him out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for him to snap, waiting for him to make a mistake. One wrong step was all they needed, maybe even just a half-step, and he’d be turned out on the curb like he deserved. Like they thought he deserved. 

Was there a difference between the two, these days?

Only the other boys and Lily trusted him without question and none of them quite understood what it was like to be doubted from the start. James always called him a little dramatic when he said that, looking at him pointedly until Remus remembered the color of James’ skin. Even James looked pale these days, too many hours spent inside poring over books and old letters, eyes red and face drawn. 

He didn’t want to go. But did he have a choice? If Dumbledore wanted someone to follow Fenrir like a dog, wasn’t Remus no better than one already?


	4. heaven belongs to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "fuck god, i'm a dog backwards"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here, as al has been asking for, is the first sirius angst chapter. there might be more, or there might just be the one, but this song feels too sirius for me to try and write anyone else to it. "fuck god, i'm a dog backwards" wouldn't have worked for anyone else, and the "see the boy try me‚ now the boy deceased / they put the blame on me‚ but hey, it wasn't me (boom, boom‚ boom)" fits better with post-first war, but i don't imagine he didn't run into similar trouble before peter. start small, build up, get big, am i right?

Regulus is dead. There is no body to bury. Bellatrix had yelled it at Peter across a battlefield, cackling madly like she'd just told a joke.

Sirius found out through an Order dispatch he wasn't supposed to have read. Andromeda found out through Sirius, before Dumbledore could pay her a visit. When he came to her door, they were both waiting for him, looking more like twins than cousins, discontent and violent in their grief, searching for someone to blame. 

Someone who could have stopped a boy (not a man, no matter what the law said) from taking the wrong path. 

Someone who should have made sure he was safe. Someone whose job was to protect children from being hurt.

Sirius snarls. 

Everyone wants a dog until the dog wants to fight.


End file.
